Forgotten Memories
by The Real F'n Scorp
Summary: Dick Grayson decides it's high time that someone go and remind the Dark Knight that not every memory their family has is a bad one. Set after Love & Bullets and Noel. Part of the Family Exploration arc.
1. Playful Banter

****Disclaimer:** **I own nothing but for the concept of the story and general theme…

**A/N:** Okay, the original idea for this story was it was supposed to be a one-shot, but I apparently don't like one-shots anymore and this will be a two-three shot deal.

This is dedicated to **Midorima Kazunari** who actually wanted to see that moment in print and **NeoMiniTails** who helped me clean it up and is my other partner in crime (along with my Red Robin cheerleader, Mid).

**_Spoiler _**alert for those who are reading **Love & Bullets**- you are gonna find out what happens at the end of that fic if you read this one. You've been warned! :)

Please, if you like this story, fav/follow.

* * *

><p>"<em>Silver Bullet<em> is not only a Hollywood masterpiece," Dick Grayson stated emphatically, "but it is the core representative of everything that an old school horror movie should be."

"_Ttch_," came Damian Wayne's artful reply. "If you consider that movie to be classic Hollywood..." a pause. "Then you are even more delusional than I originally thought you to be, Grayson."

"Why?" Dick flashed him a lopsided grin. "'Cause I actually appreciate what makes classic horror movies so awesome?"

"No." Damian's lips screwed up into a smirk. "It is because your tastes are clearly dubious at best."

"I picked Raya to be my wife, didn't I?"

Damian made a _ffff _sound. "It would appear to me that Raya picked _you_."

Raya glanced up from the paperwork she'd been perusing, a smile curving her lips. "He's got ya on that one, bird boy."

Dick aimed a finger at her. "Quiet, wife," he said in a mock severe tone. "Honor, cherish and obey, remember?"

One brow arched. "I tend to recall I said I would honor, cherish and make _you _obey, actually," she drawled. "Or have you forgotten that part of the ceremony?"

"I remember kissing you before the preacher said I was allowed to kiss ya," he teased. "Only part of the ceremony that really interested me."

"Yes," she agreed with a slight nod of her head. "I tend to recall you did that at _both _of our wedding ceremonies."

"I like kissing you."

She coughed to hide a snicker. "Much to Damian's complete and utter chagrin at times."

Grumbling could be heard coming from Damian. Raya glanced over at him, but he had his nose buried in whatever it was he was reading on his tablet. She briefly wondered if allowing him access to the collection of things she'd been writing over the years was as good an idea as she'd thought it was when he'd requested to read them. Most of the things she'd written were tame by the web's standards. Anything really personal, she kept on a private device that only Dick had access to. However, there were some pieces that revealed aspects of his family that she wasn't sure Damian was really old enough to understand.

"Rae," she heard Dick say. "Only part I cared about was the one that said I could now kiss my bride. They coulda tossed all the rest of the ceremony out the window for all I cared."

"That's because you are totally like Bruce at times: impatient."

"And for that bit of sass," Dick drawled, "we are watching _American Werewolf in London_ along with _Silver Bullet_."

"You know that I still abhor werewolf movies, right, buzzard for brains?"

Dick scoffed. "I have never understood how can you hate werewolf movies and yet love movies like _Interview with the Vampire_ and _Bram Stoker's Dracula_. They are virtually the same sort of movie."

"Are not."

"Are so."

"They are vastly different movies, Dick."

"They are about vampires who drink blood," he said dryly. "The other..."

"- about humans who consume the flesh of other humans and animals when they are transformed into their wolf sides," she finished for him. "Yes, I know what the differences between vampires and werewolves are." She smirked. "And I still don't like watching werewolf movies."

Dick folded his arms across his chest. "Gimme one good reason for why you can watch _Dracula _and not _American Werewolf_ and I will consider putting something else on instead."

_Dratted man_, she thought fondly. She wasn't really annoyed, though. Dick and his eternal need for everything to make logical sense tended to be points of contention between him and a few of his friends and former Titan teammates. Even Barbara had gotten frequently frustrated with Dick's need for everything to fit into the box that he'd created for a particular situation (despite it being something she, herself frequently did). Raya wasn't bothered by it. How could she be when it was one of her own character flaws? Their analytical minds were something they'd inherited from their parents and which had been refined by the man to bring them into his dark and twisted world.

"Bram Stoker's not a gross movie for one thing," she pointed out with a small sniff, "and it is based upon a literary classic for another."

"So is _Silver Bullet_."

She scoffed at the same time that Damian did. Dick shot a look at Damian that promised hell if he interfered in any way. Damian, for his part, was clearly not impressed by his older brother's silent threat of retribution. His eyes flashed with a warning that said clearly just who'd be the loser in a fight between them. Raya ended the situation by setting a hand on Damian's shoulder and looking up at Dick.

"As much as I love reading Stephen King novels," she informed her husband. "I don't count him as being in the same league as Bram Stoker."

"Is so."

"Is not."

"You are way off base this time, Rae," Dick told her. "Your logic is totally flawed."

"You put in that movie and see what happens," she warned Dick.

The wretched man just scoffed.

"Yeah," he chirped. "You'll go get Bruce. Just," he continued even as she snorted a laugh, "like you always do."

It was a longstanding debate between them. One that had started in this very room way back when they'd been two kids slowly coming to grips with the changes in their lives. They'd spent many a happy evening seated here in the family room, either arguing about vampires and werewolves or about various methods for dealing with the super creeps that tended to run amuck in Gotham. The family room was her most favorite room in the Manor. _Even to this day_, she thought as she slid the papers she'd been looking over back into her briefcase. Some of the greatest moments of her life had happened in this room (many involving the man sifting through DVDs with demented glee). They were the moments she'd clung to during her five year exile from this house and the man currently prowling the caves below it. Those memories were the only things that had kept her going during that frequently dark and lonely period in her life.

_We built good memories in this room_, she thought while casting a surreptitious glance at Damian. He was pretending he wasn't paying one bit of attention to her and Dick's banter (which meant he was listening and paying attention to every word, of course). Damian wasn't much for horror movies, in general. He found the genre singularly "unappealing" and "completely ridiculous in its quest" to showcase how "stupid people could be." Yet she knew he'd watch the movie without a qualm. And why he'd watch it was simply because he knew _Dick _wanted to watch it. He'd changed a lot since storming into their lives four years ago. Gone was the kid who would have liked nothing better than to drop them both off in the middle of the Sahara Desert. Now their baby bird went out of his way to spend time with them (even if he bitched and moaned about their displays of affection). Just as they'd built memories (and a family) with his father in this room...

... they'd built memories (and a family) with his son in this room as well. However, father and son had no such memories between them. The non-Batman and Robin side of the relationship between Bruce and Damian Wayne was still a severely deficient one. Father and son moments were limited to fundraisers and other public events for the most part.

_And those are just not the places where a father and son create those warm and fuzzy moments that gets them through_ _the bad times ahead_.

Well, she could fix that. Setting her briefcase on the coffee table, Raya pushed to her feet and turned to leave the room. Dick hooking the back of the sweatshirt she was wearing (which was really _his sweatshirt_, he saw) stopped her.

"Going somewhere?" he questioned.

"Yup." She nodded. "Gonna go remind somebody about how much he used to enjoy family nights."

Dick tugged her into his arms. "Finally see the method of my madness, huh?"

"So scaring the pants off your wife is what you are intending here...?" She lifted an eyebrow. "Not a really nice thing to do, yanno."

"Maybe." He flashed her a lopsided grin. "But I knew it'd make you go and get Bruce."

Her lips curved as his words sunk home. "Sneaky one you are."

"Given who I learned the art of stealth from?"

"Mm," was her only comment before she turned again to walk from the room. Dick again detained her by hooking the back of _his _sweatshirt.

"Think you forgot something, babe."

Raya glanced at him from over her shoulder, mischief twinkling in her eyes. "You honestly _think_ you deserve a kiss after threatening to make me watch a werewolf movie just so I'd go and convince Bruce to stay home?"

"Totally."

She snorted but obliged him. Damian just groaned and muttered, "I swear that you two spend more time kissing than crime fighting anymore."

Dick shot him a grin. "Shoulda thought about that when you pushed us in front of the altar."

Damian flicked him a look from beneath lowered lashes. "You can thank me for that by going and getting the jar of cookies from the kitchen."

"So, what?" Dick said dryly. "I'm your personal cookie thief now?"

"Yes. Now go."

Dick growled and tossed a pillow at the smirking teen. Raya swallowed a laugh, imagining the family room would be a disaster when she returned with Bruce and the requested cookies. Something breaking and Dick swearing reached her ears just as she entered the secret elevator in Bruce's study. She shook her head.

_Better bring a broom and dustpan along with the cookies and Bruce, _she thought as the elevator doors slid closed.


	2. Do you remember?

**A/N: **Hello m'lovelies! Hope the day has been a good one!

**_Spoiler _**alert again for those who are reading **Love & Bullets**- you are gonna find out what happens at the end of that fic if you read this one. You've been warned! :)

Please, if you like this story, fav/follow.

* * *

><p>Raya wasn't sure what mood she would find Bruce in once she reached the cave. He had been helping her uncle with hunting down where an entire freighter of medical supplies and provisions had disappeared too. A lack of concrete leads to follow and no solid information from which to work had turned Bruce into a moody ass. They'd all left him to fuss and fume by himself. However, two days of brooding down in the caves was a bit much (even for Batman). It was time for the Dark Knight to come out of his self-appointed seclusion.<p>

And she was the sacrificial lamb who'd been chosen to lure the bear from his cave.

It was the reason why her wretched husband had threatened to put on _Silver Bullet_ or _American Werewolf in London_. He knew that if either he or Damian (or Jason and Tim for that matter) confronted Bruce while he was in this pissy male mood of his that it'd lead to a physical confrontation between them. Words would be said, shots taken, blood spilled, and feelings would be hurt. So he picked two of the three movies he knew she couldn't stand watching just so she'd come down here and beg Bruce to come up and protect her.

_Just as I did when we were ten and he wanted to watch the Howling_.

As the elevator descended into the caves below, Raya allowed her thoughts to drift back. The best years of her life had been spent either upstairs in the Manor, or down in the cave. All of them involved tall, dark and moody (version 1.0 as well as V2). There were lots of secrets buried down deep in her mental vault, some that even she'd forgotten about. She felt the locks click and the chains slide free, allowing those precious moments she'd so carefully stored to spring free. Memories shot through her mind at warp speed, giggling and dancing, begging for her attention. She sifted through them in search of just the right one to use to remind a broken man about how not every moment of their lives had been an unpleasant one.

_And not every memory that we have is a dark and painful one_.

There'd been as many good times as there'd been bad. They'd just gotten overshadowed by all the ugliness and cruelty. Jason's death, Dick's one-man war against him, her leaving, it'd all taken a toll on Bruce. Every hurt got internalized and added to the pile already weighing him down. She just needed to slap some of the bats away from the pile and show him how there was light still at the end of the tunnel.

_You deserve happiness,_ _too_, she told the man pacing somewhere below.

She quickly discarded memories that were either not what she was looking for, didn't fit, or wouldn't help her meet her end objective. One long buried memory finally surfaced that she found more than suited her needs. In fact, she realized it was the perfect memory to use to remind Bruce about how not every memory or moment of their lives was a bad one.

Why?

Because it was the very first time that Bruce had chosen to be a _dad_ instead of _Batman_.

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><p><strong>Wayne Manor<strong>

_Nineteen years ago._

"We are so not watching the _Howling_!" Ten-year-old Raya stated with a stamp of her foot. "It's a werewolf movie, Dick!"

"Aw, c'mon, Rae," Dick pleaded. "Please? I _really_ wanna see this movie!"

"No."

"Aww," he whined. "Why not?"

"Because I don't like werewolf movies, that's why. They scare me."

"That's what's so awesome 'bout 'em!"

"I said _no_, Dick."

"C'mon," he cajoled. "I'll let you watch _Robin Hood_ afterwards."

"I'll be way too scared to watch _Robin Hood_."

Dick scoffed. "Oh, you will not."

"Will so."

On and on it went until Raya, at her wits end, stomped from the room, calling for Bruce as she went. The billionaire appeared at the end of the hall, his hair still wet from a shower, and wearing only a pair of ratty gray sweat pants. It was a vastly different look from the suave and sophisticated playboy that he normally affected. He didn't look so serious, not with dollops of shaving cream still on his throat and below his left earlobe. What he looked was… _human_. Like a _dad_. She liked him best at these times. He tended to be more approachable, more prone to humor and displays of affection and less likely to brood or scowl.

"What is it, Raya?"

"_Richard_," she huffed while he rubbed a towel over his face and hair. "Wants to watch the _Howling_ even though I have told him I don't wanna watch it because of how much werewolf movies frighten me."

"I see," Bruce murmured in a grave voice. "And have you suggested alternative movies that the two of you could watch instead?"

"Yes."

"And what did Dick say about them?"

"That if I won't watch the _Howling_ that we can watch _Silver Bullet_ or _American Werewolf in London_ instead."

"I see," Bruce said while nodding. "And you would like me to speak with him about choosing a better movie?"

She nodded. "Please?"

Bruce handed his towel to Alfred (who'd materialized from the shadows like a ghost) and pulled on the t-shirt the butler had over one arm. "C'mon, imp," he said. "Let's go and see if we can negotiate something better for the two of you to watch."

"Okay."

* * *

><p>The elevator came to a stop with only the barest of sounds, disrupting her trip down memory lane. Raya stepped out into the vast caverns that made up the Batfamily's central base of operations. She padded her way down the familiar staircase to the bottom floor of the cave, crossing over a bridge below which the shallow, slow-moving river that served as the launching station for the Batboat, flowed. To her right was the storage area where a virtual array of specialized vehicles—land, sea and air—were all housed.<p>

To the left was the fleet of regular vehicles—sports and luxury models mainly—that the family used whenever they were not out fighting crime. Up a set of stairs and in front of her was a montage of trophies- the oversized Joker playing card, the large penny he'd decided made for an interesting conversation piece, the huge Tyrannosaurus Rex that stood proudly watching over glass cases containing dozens of other memories and items he'd collected over his long years as the Dark Knight.

Raya walked up a small set of steps and headed beyond the personal gymnasium, training area and the grottos where the smaller scaled library and armor stations were located. Then it was up a steel ramp to the main grotto where the medical bay, crime lab and main computers were situated. She ascended one more set of short steps where she found Bruce (as she'd anticipated) standing in front of the main computer station.

A large, high-definition flat screen monitor dominated the wall in front of him. Seven linked Cray supercomputers all hummed quietly, providing him with enough data storage and computing power to make even the most high tech geek weep with envy. Bruce's eyes were fixed on the screen in front of him but she knew he'd detected her approach by the slight softening to his features. He had not, she saw, started to put on his legendary attire just yet. In Batbrat lingo, Bruce not being dressed as Batman meant that he was still in a state where he could be reasoned (or manipulated into, as the case here was) with.

"My jerk of a husband," she announced as she skipped up the last few steps, "has decided that tonight's movie choices are _American Werewolf in London_ and _Silver Bullet_."

Bruce shifted his head to look at her, a faint smile curving his lips. "Can't you handle _your_ jerk of a husband on your own, imp?"

"Well, I coulda told Damian to beat the snot out of him," she declared impishly. "But I don't think Alfred will appreciate returning home from visiting family to find that we've wrecked the mansion." Her lips curved with just a hint of mischievousness. "_Again_."

"I tend to recall that the last time the manor was damaged was because _you_ blew up the front entrance and part of the foyer."

She scoffed. "I keep telling you that that was _purely_ an accident."

"One that required everyone to move into the penthouse for nearly three months while the very _extensive_ repairs was being completed," he stated with a pointed look.

She was about to retort, but the computer beeped, alerting them that whatever information he'd been searching for had come back. Bruce's gaze fixed upon the screen and he watched the information that scrolled by in much the same way a hawk did while searching the ground for its prey. Raya heaved a sigh before reaching over to set a hand upon his arm. The thick muscles rippled beneath her palm, reminding her about how tightly wound the beast inside him was.

"Not tonight, Bruce."

Those electric eyes shifted, raked her. "What?"

"I said not tonight."

"Raya..." he growled the warning.

"No, Bruce. Not tonight." Even as the heat of his gaze scorched her, she stepped closer. "You need to stay home with your family tonight."

"I _need_ to solve this case," he snapped. "People _need_ those supplies, Raya."

"And they have already received a new shipment as of this afternoon."

His eyebrows shot up almost to his hairline. "You?"

The surprise in his tone made her rolls her eyes. _You're as bad as Dick sometimes_.

"Yes," she drawled. "I tend to recall some moody ass in a cape and cowl teaching me about contingency plans."

"Don't hold back now, imp," he remarked dryly.

"Alfred told me not too when he put me in charge of keeping an eye on you." Her lips curved with affection. "He said you'd need a 'kick to the backside now and again' while he was away."

Bruce just grunted and turned to walk over to a whiteboard covered in scraps of papers, newspaper clippings and other things associated with the case. "Why did Alfred leave you in charge instead of Dick, anyway?"

"Same reason as why Dick picked two of the three movies he knows I cannot stand watching." When he glanced at her questioningly she explained. "I'm the only one who can tackle the Bat in his cave and manage to come out unscathed."

Bruce didn't smile, but she saw that his face softened. As far as things went, that was a pretty good sign. He turned back to the board. Raya watched for a number of moments, knowing he was looking at the information and searching for the link, the missing connection that would tell him where an entire freighter had disappeared too. Finally, after a number of moments passed, she spoke.

"Do you remember the first movie night we had here at the Manor?"

He glanced back at her. "I remember you set up a fuss about Dick wanting to watch the _Howling_."

"Well, duh," she said. "Werewolf movies scared the bejesus out of me."

"They still do, imp."

"Yup." She nodded. "Absolutely. But do you remember what you did that night? How you chose to handle your two at war house-pests?"

"You weren't house-pests, Raya," he rumbled. "Brats maybe." The corners of his long lips lifted. "But you were never house-pests."

"My other half is still a brat," she stated as she padded over to him. "But that's beside the point. Do you know what I remember the most about that night?"

"No," he told her in a tone that might have been teasing. "But I have a feeling you are going to tell me."

"What I remember is that it was the first time where you felt like you were really our _dad _and not just the guy who took us in, gave us some place safe to stay and was training us in how to fight in your free time."


	3. I'm a Dad

**A/N: **Hello and goodbye m'lovelies! This is the conclusion of my little birthday gift!fic to me!

**_Spoiler _**alert again for those who are reading **Love & Bullets**- you are gonna find out what happens at the end of that fic if you read this one. You've been warned! :)

Please, if you like this story, fav/follow.

* * *

><p>"What I remember is that it was the first time where you felt like you were really our <em>dad <em>and not just the guy who took us in, gave us some place safe to stay and was training us in how to fight in your free time."

The words rocked him to the core of his being. It wasn't often that Raya opted to speak about their unique family dynamic, or about how she felt or what she thought during those early years. When she did decide to speak, though, it was always with an eloquence that managed to leave him speechless.

_Is that what you two thought? _he asked her silently. _That you were simply two kids I took in, gave a safe place, and some training to?_

He could believe it. The one thing that his oldest children had struggled with back then was in accepting how they could be chosen based upon the merit of their being.

"And I know," he heard her say lightly. "I'm talking about those pesky _feelings _that you and V2 through 5 all have a problem in discussing." At his sigh she flashed him a brilliant smile. Then she sobered and stepped to him so she could place her hand upon his shoulder. "It's the truth, though, Bruce. After that first movie night, things changed between all of us. You settled into being a _dad._ We settled into being _kids. _You allowed yourself to be _happy_. We were _happy_. You allowed us to love you. To enjoy you. And," she pointed out gently, "you allowed yourself to love and enjoy us, too."

"Things were different back then..." he began slowly. "The time was different. We were different."

"Yes." She nodded. "Yes, it was a different time. And we were different people. There were still some really good times during those years." A pause. "And there were some _really _bad times, as well. However," she continued before he could interrupt to speak the point he wanted to make about those bad times, "we managed to get through all of those terrible times because we had each other to hold onto."

"We still have each other to hold onto."

"Mm," she hummed low in her throat. Bruce felt a tingle at the back of his neck that warned him she was gearing up to make some sort of sarcastic comment. "Yes." She angled her head back and he saw that her expression was grave. "Yes, we still have each other to hold onto still. At least," she added with a slight smirk now, "we have each other to hold onto when _you _aren't being a moody ass and royally pissing off Dick, Jason, Tim or Damian and sending them flying to their own caves in which to brood and pout."

He fixed her with a look that told her she was pushing her luck. "Get on with making whatever point you are trying to make here, imp."

She harrumphed. "My point?" A pause was followed by a sigh suddenly ringing with sadness and haunted by regret. "My point is that you had hope in your life. You had laughter and love. You even saw a light at the end of the tunnel. You started talking about the future, had a few more than passing relationships, almost got married. But then our little family got broken." She lifted her head to look at him. For a moment he saw the sorrow swirling in those fathomless depths. "I left, you and Dick entered this male war where he was mad at you for stupid male reasons and you were mad at him for equally stupid male reasons..." she trailed off for a second. Bruce waited, knowing instinctively what she was about to say and steeling himself for the rush of anger and hurt and regret the words would invoke. "And then Jason got killed. It broke what was left of the chain. And it almost broke _you._"

"Almost," he agreed quietly. "But not quite."

"Close enough," she told him.

She then tipped her head against his arm. Bruce's lips crooked upwards at her (wholly manipulative) request. Even knowing it for what it was, he obliged, running a hand over the cap of her hair and along the length of her back. He felt more than heard her sigh of contentment. Comforting her was something he'd been doing ever since the first moment she'd been dropped into his cartoon circus world. It was what Thomas Wayne had taught him a good man was supposed to do.

It was why he'd chosen to become a _dad_ in the first place. _That's the one thing you got wrong, kiddo_, he told Raya silently. Movie night might have been when _she_ felt that he'd become a dad, but it wasn't when _he_ thought he'd become one. No, the night when he'd been awoken an hour before sunrise by one of his frightened children (this very one, in fact) and chose to sit up in bed with a well-worn copy of Lewis Carroll's _Alice's Adventures in Wonderland _stretched across his lap was when _he_ felt he'd become a dad...

* * *

><p><strong>Wayne Manor<strong>

_Twenty years ago._

"Alice was beginning to get very tired of sitting by her sister on the bank," he read aloud in that soft, soothing baritone belonging to Bruce (instead of that raspy growl of his alter-ego), "and of having nothing to do; once or twice she had peeped into the book her sister was reading, but it had no pictures or conversations in it., 'and what is the use of a book,' thought Alice 'without pictures or conversations?'"

Bruce paused to glance down at the nine-year-old girl who was curled against his right side. Her head was cradled upon his shoulder, her tiny hand tucked beneath her chin. Her heart-shaped face was quietly pensive, those long black lashes lowered to conceal eyes that were greener than the Manor's manicured lawns.

"This is where Dick would start complaining about how there are no pictures for him to look at, imp."

"Dick's a boy," she said on a long suffering sigh that had Bruce's lips twitching. "He lacks the ability to create the pictures for himself."

"I can so create the pictures for myself," a sleepy voice protested from the doorway. "You take that back, Raya."

A _ffff _was Dick's only response. Bruce felt a chuckle welling up in his chest as he glanced over at the insulted boy. Even in the shadows he could see the fear and grief haunting those blue eyes.

"What are you doing up, kiddo?" he asked him.

_As if I don't know._

Dick dug his toe into the carpet and looked anywhere but at the two figures in the bed. "Can't sleep," he mumbled.

_Aha, _was Bruce's thought. It was their common response. Neither child liked admitting when they'd been awakened from a nightmare. Neither child liked admitting when they were awoken by nightmares. _As if I don't know what you are dreaming about, _he thought with a slight pang. It was only to be expected, he knew. They'd both witnessed horrors that he'd have gladly sold his soul in order to prevent them from having witnessed.

_Nine. The same age I was when I saw my parents killed._

Bruce pushed his dark reflections to the back of his mind, however, and focused upon the boy huddling uncertainly in the shadows. He knew what Dick needed. He patted the empty place on the other side of him.

"Come on, chum," he rumbled. "Crawl on in here with us."

He didn't have to ask twice. With his usual exuberance, Dick clambered into the bed. Bruce heard Raya snort a small laugh and reached up to stroke a hand through her downy curls. This was, he realized now, exactly what he'd been looking forward to the entire time he'd been out on patrol that evening. It was what he'd been wanting; needing.

No longer did he dread coming home in the morning. And that was because Wayne Manor was no longer the oppressive place it had been before these two had come into his life. He had this, and them to look forward to when he came home. He had them to chase away the shadows that played in the corners and whispered their cruel taunts at him. They'd become the light inside his murky little world. No, his job was not the normal one that other father's had, and their lives weren't the typical ones that children their age tended to live. But it was a good life, nonetheless.

"Whataya reading?" Dick asked as he settled against Bruce's left side.

"_Alice's Adventures in Wonderland," _Raya replied on a yawn.

Dick let out a loud groan.

"But there are no pictures in that!"

Raya sniffed. Loudly. "Use your imagination, Richard."

"Don't wanna."

"Cause ya can't," Raya said with another small sniff.

"Can so!"

"Nah-uh!"

"All right, you two," Bruce scolded. But there was a hint of laughter in his voice that took the sting out of the reprimand. "It's too late to be arguing. Save it for the morning."

"Fine," they replied in unison.

_No, _Bruce realized as he opened the book again, Batman couldn't shield them from their memories. But then, it wasn't Batman that either of these children needed at that moment. It was _him. _He was the one who chased their nightmares away, who made their world right when it went wrong, who reminded them that they were safe, protected, _loved._

Keeping them from being harmed by men like Tony Zucco or Matthew Berkeley Jr. was what _Batman _could do.

But giving them a _dad?_ A smile wreathed his face as he again began to read. Well, that was something that only _Bruce Wayne _could do.

* * *

><p>Yes, subtle logic was this particular child's favorite weapon to use. It was the one he'd specifically designed and encouraged (though not to necessarily be used against <em>him)<em> her to hone. And it wasn't like she was saying anything to him that Alfred hadn't been saying for years.

"_You have a responsibility to your children, Master Bruce," _he heard the butler saying. "_Even grown, they still look to you for guidance and comfort and support._"

"Bruce?" he heard Raya saying. He shook himself from his reverie and looked down into her slightly suspicious eyes.

"Yes, imp?"

"Have you even been listening to a word that I have been saying for the last twenty minutes?"

_No, _was the first word to spring to his lips. He didn't say it, despite it being the truth. No, what he choose to say was, "I've heard every word you've said."

Then he folded her in his arms, eliciting a squeak of surprise from Raya, who stammered, "Are you feeling okay?"

"Yes," he said, resting his chin against her hair. "Just remembering that I'm a _dad._"

"Oh, well," she replied even as she tucked her head beneath his chin. "In that case... you can get the glass out of Dick's foot. Yanno how obnoxious my idiotic husband is about injuries and all."

"You chose to marry him, Raya."

"That would be because our baby bird decided it was a good idea."

He hid a smile. "You could have said no."

She leaned her head back. "Have you _met_ your youngest son?" she drawled. "'Cause the word _no _and _Damian Wayne _go together about as well as _chocolate_ and _okra_."

Bruce felt a chuckle welling up from his belly. "How about we go and get the glass from your jerk husband's foot?"

"You realize we could just leave Damian to do it, right?" She sent him an impish grin. "Be exactly what the jerk deserves for having threatened to make me watch werewolf movies."

"I thought you loved the jerk, imp?"

"I do," she stated as she turned away. "That's why I will totally cave and let him watch one of those blasted movies after we bandage his foot."

Yes, keeping his children from being harmed by men like the Joker was something that only _Batman _could do.

But protecting one of them from something like werewolves? A smile crossed his face as he slowly followed after her. Well, that was still something that only this _dad _could do.


End file.
